


it's all a game of chance (they say in wonderland)

by Hanaasbananas



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Aged Up, And there are Consequences, But we all knew that, F/M, Hawkmoth wins, Podfic Welcome, Post Reveal, This is my first miraculous fic, emilie wakes up, gabriel agreste is a shit parent, in which adrien really needs a hug, lots of angst as per usual, or a hundred, so no beta we die like men, there's a little fluff in ch2 as well if you can see through the sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-26
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2020-10-28 23:00:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20786456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hanaasbananas/pseuds/Hanaasbananas
Summary: There is a flash of light. A guttural scream, and then, deep in the basement of the Agreste mansion, Emilie Agreste opens her eyes.





	1. There's magic in the air (a tragic love affair that i don't understand)

**Author's Note:**

> Had the idea for this a while back when I first started the show & my brain for angst launched this plot bunny at me and watched me cry. This is my first fic for MLB fandom and I haven't caught up on the show yet so let's just say this isn't canon compliant.  
A few notes: this is set ten years in the future, when Marinette and Adrien are around 24/5, and in this fic I'm using the idea that for something to be gained, something has to be lost which, yes I know, has been done to death but I hope I do it justice. Also, Emilie has no idea how she was woken up. When I started this fic, I didn't know anything about the Peacock miraculous so it's not going to be mentioned. The only villain here is Hawkmoth and his terrible parenting.  
I've got the rest of the story planned so it should be up in the next couple of days.

They say it’s been ten years.

She can understand the fascination, even as the doctor flits around her almost constantly, muttering under his breath about the improbability of it all. Throughout the ordeal, Gabriel’s hand in hers is a steady presence, never once wavering while he keeps her grounded in this new reality, stopping her from flying into a frenzy.

And still, she hasn’t seen Adrien.

Gabriel assures her that he is well, that he will see her soon, that he is just busy. But she yearns to see her son, to see how he has grown in her absence. He no longer lives at the mansion. That much is obvious, but Gabriel refuses to tell her anymore. Whenever she asks, he simply assures her that Adrien _just needs some more _time.

“Well how about photos?” she asks one day, when the boredom of being confined to bed becomes too much.

“Photos?” Gabriel looks up from his tablet, perplexed “of what?”

“Of _Adrien! _I want to see how he grew up!”

“Oh well…that was always your hobby, wasn’t it?”

“Are you saying,” Emilie says slowly “that in the last ten years, you haven’t taken a single photograph of our son?”

“Well there was no need! But oh-” Gabriel’s eyes light up and he hurries off, rummaging on his shelf for a while before returning. “Here you go!” he thrusts a folder in her face, and Emilie blinks, surprised.

“His modelling portfolio” Gabriel clarifies at her confusion “he’s been a model for the brand since he was fourteen. This should track any major changes he made”

He sits back, pleased, watching as she flips through the folder slowly. As usual, they are perfect photographs, showcasing Gabriel’s designs at their very best. She takes her time, humming noncommittally as she examines each one, trying not to let her disappointment show. These photos tell her nothing. There is no life in them, no semblance of _reality_ and she wonders not for the first time how Gabriel has parented their son.

As she stares at Adrien’s artificial expression grinning blandly up at her, Emilie makes her decision.

If Adrien won’t come to her, well. She’ll just have to go to him.

* * *

_A miracle is being chosen to wield a miraculous. A miracle is his Lady and Marinette being one and the same. A _miracle_ is Marinette agreeing to be his wife, opening her heart and her life and her family to him. But this?_

_This is not a miracle._

_This is the end._

_This is all of his nightmares rolled into one. This is Marinette bleeding out in his arms, Hawkmoth- his _goddamn father_, Adrien thinks hysterically- standing triumphant over them,__ talking about his _mother_ and _family_ as though he knows what that word means. As though he hasn’t just ripped the world out from under his son, destroying any last shred of happiness Adrien might have had more effectively than any cataclysm. _

_But the wish is made. _

_The damage is done._

_With a blinding flash of light, the Agreste family is once more complete. _

_And Marinette is bleeding in his arms. _

_Marinette is _dying_ in his arms. _

_“Adrien,” she gasps out, choking on blood, her eyes wide, and blue, and _frantic_, hands scrabbling for him. He tries to shush her, tell her to save her strength but she digs her fingers into his arm, forcing him to pay attention to her words. Squeezing her eyes shut, Marinette inhales a rattling breath, and speaks urgently, "my_ parents_. Go to them. They’ll take care of you. You’ll need each other, now."_

_“no_nonono_, Marinette, you’re going to be okay; it’s going to be okay” he can’t stop babbling, words pouring out of him, listing all the reasons why she can’t go, can’t just _leave him_. “We’re getting married in six months, remember? We still have to pick a venue, a-and..and what about Alya and Nino, we’re going to be the godparents remember?” _

_“We never did get to see our little Hugo, Emma and Louis” she muses, her voice distant, a dreamy smile curling at her lips. She barely notices him whip up to face her, a strangled sob lodged in his throat, hot tears sliding down his cheeks. Her own eyes are brimming with tears, but there is a calm acceptance in them now that has the cracks in his heart expanding into fissures. This can’t be the end. It can’t. It _can’t_ be. _

_He moans, pulling her closer and burying his face in her hair, hiding his terror “don’t leave me” the words escape his lips in a pitiful whine, and he tightens his arms around her, pulling her close. “Princess _please_, I can’t…I can’t do this without you” _

_“Shh. Shhh, my chaton” Marinette croons, lifting a shaking hand to stroke his hair, her fingers gently scratching at his scalp._

_“Adrien” she licks her lips, meeting his gaze again “Adrien, I _love you_. Always remember that” for the first time she looks afraid, her chin wobbling as she holds back tears “don’t forget me”_

_“Never” he vows, and then she’s surging up to grab the collar of his shirt, using the last vestiges of her strength to press her lips to his in a bruising kiss; her blood staining his mouth and leaving her mark on him for the very last time._

* * *

Finding Adrien is easier said than done.

It takes three months just for doctors to confirm that she isn’t at risk of falling into a coma again, and another month after that for her husband to be content with leaving her alone at home.

Her first mistake is talking to Nathalie. No doubt following the orders of her boss, Nathalie remains tight lipped on the matter and Emilie is hardly surprised when, hours later Gabriel is announcing a trip abroad, just the two of them.

“It’s for business, of course” he explains “but I won’t be in meetings at all hours so we can go to Milan, or wherever else you want. We need a holiday, darling”

And so they go to Italy. Where one weekend becomes a week, becomes two weeks.

Emilie won’t lie, the holiday is enjoyable. She always did like Italy after all. But the entire time she’s there, as Gabriel points out newest fashions and makes notes for his new line, she can only think of her son; why Gabriel is so adamant that she does not see him.

Asking outright didn’t work at _all_, and she has no doubt that Gabriel might extend their stay indefinitely if she brings it up, so instead, she plans.

Two days before they’re due to leave, Emilie approaches her husband on the balcony, reaching out for his hand and entwining her fingers with his.

“Who was that on the phone, dear?” Gabriel asks

“Hmm?” she responds as though broken from a reverie “oh just Audrey”

“Bourgeois?”

“Of course! Which other Audrey do I know?”

“What did she want?”

“She heard about my recovery and wanted to see if we could meet for brunch” Emilie sighs, staring out at the horizon. Gabriel turns to her as she speaks, but she doesn’t look away.

“Audrey’s leaving Paris the day we return though and she’s not sure when she’ll visit from New York again” She makes sure to inject just the right amount of wistfulness into her voice and she knows her plan is working when Gabriel doesn’t respond immediately.

She knows that he hears the sadness in her tone, knows that _he _knows she won’t ask anything of him outright. But Gabriel has always sought to give her everything.

“Well” he clears his throat “I won’t be able to spend any time with you tomorrow”

“I know. You’re visiting suppliers, aren’t you?”

“That’s right” Gabriel nods once, and then again as he comes to a decision. “So why don’t you take a flight out tomorrow and I’ll follow the day after.”

“Oh _Gabriel!_” Emilie exclaims, turning to embrace him with a dizzying smile “Thank you!”

* * *

The next day, once she has successfully informed Gabriel that _yes, _she has arrived in Paris in one piece, she begins part two of her plan.

Their driver, Victor, had always had a soft spot for Adrien so when she pleads with him to take her to Adrien, he simply stares at her for a long moment before nodding silently.

The entire car journey, she finds herself twisting and untwisting her hands, struggling to hide her nerves. What will her son be like? Is he the same happy, sunshine boy she remembers? Or has he changed completely? Does he have friends? Does he have a_ girlfriend_?

Soon, Victor is stopping in front of a modest apartment complex and Emilie just stares. Her son is in one of those buildings. Ten years and seven months and finally. _Finally_ she can see her son again. She barely waits for Victor to tell her which building he’s in before she’s hurrying across the car park as fast as her heels will let her, her heart thumping erratically in her chest.

There’s no response when she first knocks on the door, so she tries again. After her third knock though, the door flies open, hitting the inside corridor with a bang “Nino, I _told y-” _Adrien stops abruptly, his eyes settling on Emilie in front of him. For a moment, they simply gaze at each other, and then Adrien’s eyes shift to the wall behind her.

“Mother” his voice is flat. 

_Oh, _but her Adrien has grown so much. He towers over her, perhaps not as tall as Gabriel, but close. His muscular, lean frame practically dwarfing her own. His hair is only slightly longer than he used to keep it, sticking up all over the place as though he’s been running his hands through it, and light stubble covers his jaw. Only yesterday, he was her sunshine, lighting up and grinning toothily up at her when she’d ruffle his hair. Now, his mouth is a hard, narrow line, lips pressed tightly together as he stares resolutely at a spot right above her head.

“Well aren’t you going to invite me in?”

“No.”

At her stricken look he sighs, rubbing a hand down his face “look…this is a really bad time. How about-” Adrien waves his hand helplessly “how about I come over for dinner tomorrow evening?”

And before she can respond he’s slamming the door in her face.

* * *

_He manages to hold it in until he gets home. _

_“Princess, I’m home!” the words slip out like a reflex when he slams the door shut, and Adrien can’t help but strain to hear a noncommittal hum from the sewing room, a giggled greeting from the kitchen, even a light snore from their bedroom… _anything_ to break the oppressively thick layer of silence that has settled on the apartment. _

_There is no response. _

_And there probably never will be again_

_Adrien looks across at their apartment and feels his face crumple. His legs buckle underneath him, and he sinks to his knees with a gasp. _

_Things are exactly as they’d left them this morning. Marinette’s tea sits on the table, stone cold and still full beside a half-eaten muffin from when she realised she was running late again. Her sketches are scattered all over the coffee table as though she’d only momentarily left. There’s a stack of bridal magazines by the sofa_ _—_ _they were supposed to go through them together. _

_But they hadn’t _known_. He looks at the tableau of domesticity the two of them had cultivated and wants to scream. Wants to go back in time and shake himself for not cherishing every single second he had with Marinette this morning. For only briefly pecking her on the lips before leaving for work, promising to meet her at the bakery for cake tasting at lunch. _

_People said that they felt something before a tragedy. That somehow, they knew something terrible was going to happen. Why hadn’t _he?_ Why hadn’t his heart warned him? whywhywhywhywhy-_

_The pounding in his head grows louder, more insistent and he realises belatedly that someone is at his door. _

_“Agreste, open up!” _

_“Dude, I’d listen to the angry pregnant lady, man”_

_Alya and Nino. _

_He can’t face them. He can’t look at them and destroy their world. Not like his own world has been destroyed. _

_“Adrien, if you don’t open up _right now_, I’m busting this door open, don’t think I won’t” Alya threatens. _

_She won’t give up. Alya is stubborn as all hell and pregnancy has only made it worse. Rising slowly from his place on the floor, Adrien unlocks the door just as Alya is pulling her fist back to knock again. _

_She opens her mouth, no doubt ready to launch into an angry tirade, but Adrien must look worse than he feels because her voice softens. “What happened? Marinette’s parents called us, they said you dropped her off and took off. They’ve taken her to the hospital but couldn’t get hold of you.”_

_He stares blankly, not noticing the concerned looks Alya and Nino exchange with each other. At least they still have each other, their unborn child. They don’t have to worry about any more battles. _

_“bro-” Nino starts, but Adrien cuts him off, meeting the couples concerned gaze. _

_“Hawk-” his voice cracks “Hawkmoth won.”_

* * *

Adrien won’t meet her eyes.

Emilie looks desperately between her husband and son, both resolutely refusing to look at the other. Adrien hadn’t even greeted his father when he arrived at the door, holding a bottle of red wine so tightly his knuckles were white. Instead, he bent down slightly to press a chaste kiss to her cheek, and she could have sworn she heard his breath hitch.

This is not the family dinner she envisioned. Gabriel had been livid when she told him Adrien was coming but still, he wouldn’t tell her why. He had stopped when he saw how excited she was and retreated into his office with a scowl. She had spent the rest of the day overseeing the kitchen, making sure that every dish was completely faultless.

She had imagined gentle conversations, for Adrien to tell her what troubled him, to learn what she had missed in those ten, vital years. In reality, the only sound in the room is the scraping of cutlery against plates.

Emilie realises she was being too optimistic. If her son had refused to see her for seven months, one evening wasn’t going to do anything. But still, she tries. Searching anxiously for a topic of conversation, her eyes alight on Adrien’s shirt. 

“Where did you get that shirt, Adrien?” she interrupts the silence, gesturing with her fork. “That doesn’t look like anything Gabriel has designed”

She hears Gabriel scoff, but she barely spares him a glance, focusing instead on Adrien.

“That’s because he didn’t” his voice is soft “my fiancée made it.”

_Fiancée? _

"Fiancée?” she echoes incredulously, blinking rapidly when Adrien only nods in confirmation. Emilie turns to Gabriel, her mind racing “why didn’t you _tell _me our son is _engaged?_ I could have invited her to dinner as well!”

Gabriel doesn’t even look up from his meal.

“I didn’t tell you because that girl is no longer relevant." she hears Adrien suck in a sharp breath “Adrien needs to let go of the past and find someone who is _truly_ worthy of adopting the Agreste name.”

Adrien’s fork clatters to the table. He looks across the table at Gabriel and his eyes flash dangerously.

“You’d know all about letting go of loved ones, wouldn’t you father?"

Abruptly, he stands up, his chair screeching against the tile. “Excuse me” he addresses Emilie, “Thank you for the dinner, mother, but I seem to have lost my appetite.” Emilie can only stare in bewilderment as he makes his way to the front door, her mind blank with shock. 

This dinner has been a _disaster_. 

Adrien turns the doorknob, but pauses before opening the door. Turning his head slightly, his quiet voice is deafening in the large room. 

"Don't _ever_ ask me to come here again."


	2. she throws another dart (and narrowly avoids my lonely broken heart)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this got away from me. It _was_ going to be two chapters but then things escalated and the chapter was taking ages to get to the ending that I've got planned, so I've split chapter two in half so I can post _something_ while I work on finishing up.  
Again, this chapter is very much driven by the character's emotions and their reactions to what has happened. This fic also operates on the fact that Tom and Sabine know the truth about what happened. How they found out isn't plot relevant though, so just roll with it. I hope this answers your questions from the previous chapter as well as maybe giving you some more...😏
> 
> Loved reading all your comments last week-I've been absolutely overwhelmed with the response and ya'll I almost cried when I saw people actually discussing my plot in the comments it made me feel so happy. 
> 
> Anyway, Enjoy!

_She’s too still._

_In all the years he’s known her, Adrien has never known Marinette to stay still. She was always in motion-tapping her fingers, doodling, humming in tune to whatever song was stuck in her head…but now she is silent. The only sound in the room is of the machines whirring and beeping, working around the clock to keep her alive. He watches her through the window. Watches as Sabine lovingly braids Marinette’s inky hair-the only colour against her stark bedsheets; as Tom reads to her from her favourite book of poems. Normally she’d be laughing and tutting, correcting her father on his inflection and delivery of the words but today she lies motionless, her eyes shut and face set in what would be a serene expression if it wasn’t so _blank_. _

_It’s unnatural. _

_His fingers twitch by his sides, longing to go to Marinette, to stroke her hair, to simply _hold her hand. _But he forces down the urge and curls his hands into fists, her engagement ring on his pinkie finger pressing painfully into his palm; reminding him why he is an outsider; why he won’t go to her. _

_Tom looks up then, catching his eye and Adrien ducks quickly out of view. He can’t do it. He can’t see the accusation in their eyes blaming him for what he let happen to their daughter. Because it’s his fault._

_His fault. His fault for not realising his father was Hawkmoth. His fault for not protecting Marinette, for not…_

_A hand lands heavily on his shoulder. Adrien whips around, raising his arms ready to attack but it is just Nino and he relaxes, slumping against the wall. _

_“Bro” Nino’s voice is grave. “This was outside your door” he passes Adrien a parcel, watching as Adrien furrows his brow, tearing at the wrapping paper._

_“It’s probably something Marinette order-” his words cut off abruptly. Inside the box sits a pristine white envelope, his name printed neatly across the back. Hands shaking, Adrien opens the envelope, pulling out the single slip of paper within. _

Adrien,

My work with these is done. You may return them to the Guardian.

_Adrien sees red. _

_The words are blunt. Remorseless. No apology-not even the _hint_ of one-as though that would even matter. A manic, strangled laugh escapes his throat as he stares down at the note, registering dimly from Nino’s sharp intake of breath that he’s read it too. The box contains them all, glinting dully under the bright hospital light. The earrings, the ring, the brooch. Adrien takes the ring, sliding it onto his finger just as Nino looks up at him, eyes wide and troubled. _

_“He can’t get away with this”_

_“He won’t” the simple act of putting his miraculous back on seems to calm his roiling thoughts and he flexes his fingers experimentally, “one cataclysm, and it’s done.” Adrien turns on his heel and strides down the hallway, veering into the first empty room he finds._

_He’s never used cataclysm on a person before, and he wonders. What will it look like? Will it be instantaneous? Or will he watch the light go out in his fathers’ eyes as his skin and bones, and organs all crumble slowly into ash…will it satisfy him? Soothe the raging, black cat inside him that howls to killhimkillhimkillhim, demanding punishment, revenge, retribution? _

_Will it be enough?_

_He barely waits for the door to click shut behind him before he’s throwing his fist out, shouting _

_“Plagg! Claws out!”_

_Nothing happens. _

_There is no flash of light. No angry black Kwami zipping out and demanding cheese. No Chat Noir. _

_Standing in an empty room, his arm outstretched, Adrien’s chest heaves as he searches the room for anything. For the tiniest glimmer of magic. For Plagg to fly out from behind a chair cackling about how he _really got you this time, kid!

_But there is only silence._

* * *

Emilie spends the night reading.

Gabriel knows next to nothing about Adrien’s fiancée, apparently refusing to get to know her at all. The only information he volunteers is something about winning a _Gabriel_ design contest almost a decade ago.

Instead, she leaves him sitting calmly at the table eating dinner and locks herself in their room, immediately going to the computer. She doesn’t even have to search for more than his name for articles to flood in.

Seven months on: What we know about Marinette Dupain-Cheng’s mystery coma

‘There is no medical explanation for her coma’ Adrien Agreste says in official statement

Adrien Agreste asks for privacy as fiancée Marinette Dupain-Cheng is hospitalised

Well wishes flood in for fashion designer Marinette Dupain-Cheng as fiancé Adrien Agreste releases official statement

27 times Adrien Agreste and Marinette Dupain-Cheng made us believe in true love (Get well soon Marinette!)

There are well over a hundred articles and Emilie reads them all, trawling through photos of Adrien, spotted outside a hospital looking dishevelled, his shoulders hunched and expression grim. But there are photos of the girl too. Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

_She’s pretty_ is her first thought when she sees bluebell eyes and inky hair contrasting with her pale skin. They make a striking couple, with Marinette almost an entire head shorter than Adrien, but the way her son looks at the girl makes her heart ache at the adoration she sees in his eyes, and she thinks: _N__o. She’s beautiful._

Emilie keeps researching, reading messages fans have been sending on social media to what she rapidly realises is Paris’s favourite celebrity couple. There are so many compilation videos that she almost misses one uploaded by an Alya Césaire, titled ‘MARINETTE’S FIRST RUNWAY!!’ from a year and a half ago. The name is the first one she recognises from other articles, and she clicks it without thinking.

The video opens with the camera panning across what is clearly a home design studio, with every available surface covered in fabrics, and a girl—Marinette, she realises—sitting hunched over a sewing machine.

“_Ohmygod Girl!”_ Alya squealed “it’s your first runway show tomorrow how are you feeling?”

Marinette doesn’t even look up, shoving the camera out of her face without pausing to stop the machine. “Alya so help me god get that camera out of my face or I _will_ personally murder you and get Adrien to help me bury the body. Don’t think I won’t do it”

“Who are we killing this week, Princess?” Adrien’s voice came teasingly over the speaker and Marinette shot the camera another glare before looking at Adrien off camera.

“Oh, nobody…_yet_”

“Alright, alright jeez! Never upset a designer on a deadline!” Alya laughed, turning the camera away “Say…that sounds like a cool segment on the channel…” she swung the camera back up, catching Adrien leaning against a wall, laughing in the periphery “hey what do you think of this idea-”

“_ALYA!” _

What follows is a montage as Alya flashes a backstage journalist pass and records everything in sight, from the lighting, to the models getting ready, to the venue filling with people, and then suddenly Emilie’s looking at Adrien and Marinette again. They’re slightly blurred in the candid shot, but she can clearly see Marinette making sure Adrien’s outfit is properly fitted for the runway. He grabs her shaking hand when it smooths down the fabric on his chest, holding it still. Adrien ducks his head to talk to her quietly, laughing after a moment when Marinette swats at his chest before pressing a chaste kiss to her lips.

She records the entire show, and Emilie has to admit it’s impressive. Marinette is immensely talented- she’s surprised that Gabriel hadn’t snagged her up immediately for the company, but then his methods had always been strange and difficult to understand.

At the end of the show, as Marinette comes down to stand with the models, Adrien winks at Alya; grinning mischievously when they pass her, putting an arm around Marinette’s waist. Just as they reach the end of the runway, he pulls her flush against him, dipping her down into a searing kiss among the hoots and applause of the crowd.

“So that was good right?”

The three of them are sat in a car, and Marinette takes a while to answer, smiling dazedly. Staring down at her hand, she murmurs “it was _great.”_

Alya exhales sharply, the camera zooming in on Marinette’s left hand where there is an engagement ring and the video cuts off abruptly, but not before Emilie hears Alya’s wordless shriek, sees Adrien gazing down at Marinette beside him in utter adoration.

Before Emilie can fully process what she’s seen, another video begins playing, titled ‘ADRIEN AGRESTE INSTAGRAM LIVE (DRUNK!!)’. The difference between videos is jarring, and not just because of the shaky camerawork.

The Adrien in this video looks like another person. His eyes are bloodshot, face flushed and hair sticking up all over the place. He’s sitting in low lamplight and she notices something glinting around his neck. The ring.

He’s wearing Marinette’s engagement ring on a chain around his neck. Emilie’s throat tightens at the sight. Adrien is sprawled across a sofa in the video, and she’s so focused on his appearance it takes her a second to realise he’s speaking.

“-Alya had her kid today she had a girl and she’s so cute you’d love her so much. I know you wanted to be here-” Adrien paused suddenly, his head whipping around, eyes narrowing intently as he focused on something she couldn’t hear. “Wow I thought someone was at the door for a second that’s so weird but _YEAH_ I gave her the little blanket you made for the baby and yeah yeah I know you still haven’t finished it but I kept thinking maybe if I gave her an unfinished gift you’d wake up just to yell at me for not letting you sew the baby’s initials on it before giving it to Alya”

Adrien licked his lips before speaking again, his voice plaintive “I wish you’d wake up, princess the apartment is so lonely without you here and the place doesn’t smell like cookies anymore even though your parents keep bringing me stuff.” He lapsed into silence, staring silently off camera, his eyes unfocused. He sat like that for a full minute before his eyes snapped back to the camera, and he began speaking rapidly.

“You know I made _really_ good cookies the other day” he puffed out his chest a little before deflating, his bottom lip jutting out in a pout “yeah okay I knew you wouldn’t believe me! I burned them so bad the apartment _stank_ and I miss you sososomuch why can’t you just come baaaack Marinette?” he let his arm drop, hiding his face from view but not his muffled sobs. Just as suddenly, he popped back up on the camera and wagged his finger at the screen.

“You have to, you know. I can’t be a godparent all on my own, what if I end up like father” he snorted “now _that_ would be the worst and _anyway_ little baby Césaire needs you to make her dolls and dresses and spoil her and-” the sound of a door slamming made Adrien’s head snap up and he grinned, wide and wobbly

“Heeeeey Ninoo! Come say hi to Marinette she’s right here look!”

A vague figure approached Adrien, coming to stand behind him and put a hand on his shoulder.

“Adrien…dude, Marinette’s in hospital, remember?” he sounded sad, gently reaching for the phone, but Adrien moved it out of reach.

“Yeah but she’s here! I’m _talking to her_ Nino and you’re being so _rude_ say hello!”

“Bro, you probably clicked Instagram live because of your profile picture. It’s you and Marinette, right?”

“Mhmm” Adrien sounded confused “but I-” he seemed to see the messages flooding across his phone in the chat for the first time “oh”

Nino sighed again, coming around to sit by Adrien. This time, Adrien didn’t resist when he took the phone.

“Come on, dude, turn it off now-you need to sleep-” and the video cuts off.

Emilie stares at the screen long after the video ends, her mind replaying the grief she saw in her sons’ eyes, how _broken _he looked in comparison to the easy way he smiled, carefree and relaxed when she saw him with Marinette.

Tasting saltwater in the corner of her mouth, Emilie realises with a start that she is crying. Her son is broken. Her son is broken, and her heart is _aching_, but all she can do is cry.

* * *

_“Adrien”_

_Adrien turns at the sound of his name, the greeting dying on his lips when he sees who has called him. _

_“Tom. Sabine” he nods politely. Tom’s arms are crossed, and Sabine scrutinises him from her place by his side. Marinette’s hospitalisation has taken a toll on them. They look wan, listless; as though all the life has been sapped from them_.

You did this to them_ a malicious voice that sounds suspiciously like his father whispers in his head. _This is your fault; they’re going to tell you to leave and never come back and you deserve it.

_“You’ve been avoiding us” Tom says. It’s not a question. Adrien supposes he was lucky to go this long without confrontation. There’s no point in avoiding it now. He shrugs uncomfortably, moving to sit down. _

_“I can’t imagine you want to look at the face of the person who put your daughter in hospital” he mumbles. Sabine comes to sit beside him, putting her arm around his shoulders. He wants desperately to lean into the touch, to accept the comfort she’s offering him, but he can’t. So he sits stiffly, keeping his eyes trained on the floor where he’s scuffing his shoes on the linoleum. They sit like that for some time, neither of them speaking until Adrien feels Tom sitting down on his other side. _

_“Did you hurt her yourself?” he asks, and Adrien whips his head up to stare at Tom in disbelief._

_“_Of course not_!”_

_“Then did you take her there against her will?”_

_“No.” _

_“Then how can it be your fault?” Sabine’s voice is gentle, and she runs her hand up and down his back soothingly. He knows what they’re trying to do, knows what they’re trying to tell him but how can he explain? How can he explain that they should _hate him_-_

_ “I should have _known_” he says instead. “I should have noticed the signs, should have at least sent Marinette away as soon as I realised what was happening” Adrien looks desperately between them “why can’t you hate me?” he cries “I can’t even look at my own reflection right now-how can you stand to be so close to me?”_

_ “Now you listen here Adrien.” Tom says sternly “you may not be married yet, but as far as Sabine and I are concerned, you are already our son. We could never hate you” _

_“And as for Marinette” Sabine interjects, smiling fondly “do you really believe she would have left if you told her to?”_

_“No but-” _

_“Well that’s that then. It’s not your fault” she says it so matter of factly that Adrien is left staring. “What your father did…” Sabine continues “it’s not a reflection on you, Adrien, you must know that.”_

_How can they so readily absolve him when he can’t do the same? Adrien is at a loss for words. _

_“Is this why you haven’t been into Marinette’s room?” Tom’s question makes him start. He hadn’t realised they noticed. _

_“it’s…it’s not that” Adrien begins “it’s just…how can I go in there, and talk to her when she won’t respond? Whenever I see her, she’s too still I can’t _stand_ it” _

_Tom’s smile is understanding when he says, “we’ll go with you” and Adrien wants to cry because this is all he wants and it is so far from what he deserves, but he nods. And so it is with Marinette’s parents flanking him that he enters her room for the first time. _

* * *

If there’s one thing Emilie can thank that _horrendous_ dinner for, it’s that Adrien lets her visit him. His apartment is…cosy, she thinks the first time she goes in. The more she visits though, the more she realises how it is the direct opposite of the house he grew up in. Where the mansion, with its white interior and minimalist décor is large and forbidding, Adrien’s apartment is full of warmth. There are bookshelves crammed full of fashion magazines alongside novels and scientific journals, sofas so soft she sinks right into them, and the entire place just looks _lived in_. It looks like a _home_ and Emilie can imagine Adrien and Marinette building their life within these walls together.

Even though her visits become more frequent, going from once a week to three or four times, she still doesn’t understand why he won’t look directly at her. Sometimes when she’s puttering around in his kitchen making tea, or plating up food she’s bought, she catches him staring at her, though he whips his head around when she turns to see. There is a haunted look in his eyes that she can’t erase, no matter how much she tries. And he won’t let her. When she tries to bring up Marinette-examining the photos on their walls-he shuts down so fast she fears she lost all progress with him.

But still Adrien lets her in when she comes again. (Even if she notices that the pictures have been taken down.)

Until today.

When Emilie knocks on the door at five pm on the dot, it isn’t Adrien who opens it but another blonde woman around Adrien’s age. Her eyes widen comically when she sees Emilie, and she glances backwards quickly before saying loudly “oh! Mrs _Agreste!” _she bites her lip worriedly “uh, it’s not a good time right now, why don’t you come back tomorrow?”

“Excuse me?” Emilie pushes past the girl, ignoring her indignant gasp. “You can’t stop me from seeing my son! Who _are _you anyway?”

“God, Mrs Agreste it’s me _Chloé Bourgeois. _I know you were gone for ten years but that doesn’t mean you went _blind-” _Chloé follows behind Emilie, colliding with her back when she comes to an abrupt stop in the living room.

Adrien is sat on the couch, surrounded by files and papers, his head in his hands. His shoulders are tense, and he doesn’t acknowledge her presence at all. Moving to sit beside him, she rests a hand on his shoulder but Adrien flinches away from her touch, standing and practically running to the other side of the room while she watches, confused.

“Adrien what’s the matter?”

“I can’t do this with you today, mother” he doesn’t look at her when he speaks, running his hand down his face in agitation, turning so he has his back to her.

“Why?”

Emilie rises, shrugging off Chloé's hand on her arm when she murmurs “come on, you should go” and stepping closer to Adrien.

“Why can’t you talk to me, Adrien?” she demands “why don’t you want me here? I’m supposed to help you I’m your _mother!” _she struggles against Chloé’s insistent grip, twisting around as she tries to guide her to the door.

“Because it’s _YOUR FAULT!_” The words explode out of Adrien and Emilie falters at the force in his voice. He whirls around to face her, his eyes blazing. “It’s _your fault _and I can’t even _blame _you because you had nothing to do with it!” his chest rises and falls rapidly, and there are tears in his eyes but this time he doesn’t look away, meeting her shocked gaze with his.

She doesn’t know how long they stand like that in silence, the only other sound in the room their breathing, but eventually Emilie stumbles backwards, sitting heavily on the couch.

It all comes tumbling out.

The miraculous, Hawkmoth-_Gabriel_, the wish. Emilie wants to deny it. Wants to leave and forget she ever heard about any of this, but Chloé shows her footage. Absurd monsters rampaging and destroying the city.

She sees footage of people realising what they’ve done, what they were manipulated to do and crying, crying, always there is crying. Paris has been under terror for a decade, and looking at Adrien and Chloé, their faces grim as they recount the years, she remembers Tibet. Remembers a brooch and a book, and a terrifying gleam in her husbands’ eye. And as the breath rushes out of her, all she can think is _oh._

* * *

_“Think carefully, Chat Noir. What _exactly_ did your father wish for?”_

_Adrien thinks back to that day. Pushes past the memory of flashing light, of limbs screaming with the effort of fighting, of Marinette’s limp weight in his arms and his mind whirling, whirling, whirling with the knowledge that his father has taken everything from him. _

_“He wished…” _

_He pushes past the memory of the wind rushing in his ears, his heartbeat pounding while his father makes The Wish, bellowing to be heard over the pure magic that surged through the room. _

_“He wished for his family to be whole again” Master Fu nods as Adrien speaks, rubbing his chin thoughtfully._

_“It is as I suspected. You think of Marinette as your family, yes?”_

_“I don’t just _think_” Adrien murmurs, looking up finally to meet Master Fu’s kind gaze “she _is_ my family.” _

_“Such powerful magic always demands something in return, and from what I can tell, the wish had chosen Marinette as its price for bringing back your mother. But Tiki was able to use your emotional connection to Marinette to manipulate the magic into including her as part of Hawkmoths wish at the last minute. Because she was the chosen price, and because she is not yet part of the Agreste bloodline, she has become trapped between two extremes; existing now in a form of stasis that can only be broken when Tiki reawakens”_

_“All is not yet lost, Chat Noir” Master Fu assures him “I will do everything in my power to wake Marinette.”_

_“But what about Hawkmoth?” Adrien demands “Every day that passes is another day he’s gotten away with it, and he’s living like a _normal citizen” _he spits out the last words “I get that Plagg isn’t around but can’t I just use another miraculous? All I’d need is an hour to take him down. You know I could do it”_

_Master Fu regards Adrien steadily throughout his rant, standing only when he’s finished. Gesturing for Adrien to follow behind him, he retrieves the Miraculous box. The box appears to be glowing, multiple colours emanating from it in a pulsing aura. _

_“Typically, Kwami’s are left to rest on their own after harnessing such powerful magic,” Fu explains, opening the box. The lights get brighter, almost blinding Adrien and he shields his eyes. “But in this case, time is of the essence. In order to reawaken Tiki and Plagg as quickly as possible, each Kwami is sharing their power” Adrien squints, seeing the ring and earring in the middle of the box. Surrounding the miraculous’ in circles are the kwamis, their magic escaping them in bright wispy strands, each reaching out to the kwami beside them, and forming a chain that ultimately makes its way to Tiki and Plagg. _

_ “Should any of the miraculous’ be in use during this time, it will break the chain of energy and it may be years before the ladybug and black cat miraculous’ become active again.” Master Fu slams the box closed and Adrien blinks rapidly at the absence of light, black spots dancing in front of his vision. _

_“So, Chat Noir, my question to you is this:” Fu turns to Adrien, a glint in his eye that tells him he already knows what the answer will be. “Is your thirst for justice greater than your need to wake Marinette?” _


	3. so pinch me i must be dreaming (my life has lost all it's meaning)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here it is, the end! Man, these chapters just get longer with each update. Sorry for the long wait, but real life got in the way however much I didn't want it to. This chapter is pretty dialogue heavy and I kinda hate writing dialogue so apologies in advance if it's terrible and clunky. Again, this chapter wasn't beta read, so just ignore small mistakes. 
> 
> I've loved the feedback I've got on this story, it's so nice to see that people are enjoying my total angstfest hahaha. 
> 
> Anyway, Enjoy!

Adrien takes her to the Dupain-Chengs for dinner.

Perhaps he senses that she’s still in shock, reeling from all the information thrown her way. Or maybe it is his way of extending an olive branch—letting her further into his life.

Before they enter the bakery, Adrien turns to her, his expression earnest. “I won’t make you pick sides, but what I’m doing...” he swallows “you should at least see _why._”

Emilie can only nod in response.

She doesn’t know what she’s going to do.

How will she look at her husband the same way again? How can she look at him without seeing the monster he became to bring her back? And yet, a small, dark part of her wonders why she should hate him for tearing the world apart for her- shouldn’t she be flattered he went to such extremes? But her rational mind drowns it out, thinking of terror, and violence and so much _crying_.

She doesn’t speak much during dinner, simply observing. Tom and Sabine are wonderful, wonderful people and they welcome her with open arms; without resentment even though she can see the loss in their stooped shoulders, the circles under their eyes.

And Adrien. _Oh, _but her Adrien seems to thrive in their company. His conversation never falters as he helps out in the kitchen, moving around as though it’s his own home.

Looking at him now, at the way he keeps up a steady stream of conversation, at the way he looks at them; the memory comes to her suddenly and she feels her heart clench. She remembers when he was a child, when she’d fight with Gabriel and Adrien would run to get tissues, would hug her arm and chatter incessantly, drawing her attention away.

He loves them, she realises, watching how he speaks to Sabine in Mandarin, and talks videogames with Tom; and together the three of them tell her stories about Marinette, talking over each other and interrupting one anecdote to begin another with _do you remember when-._

And they love him.

She sees it in the way they bat away his wandering hand from a tray of cookies in the kitchen but give him an extra slice of cake for dessert. She sees it in the way Tom calls him ‘son’ like its second nature and Sabine squeezes his shoulder gently whenever she passes behind him. She sees it in the photographs on the walls, family photographs with him in almost every one.

Emilie spends the most time examining the large Christmas portrait. There is a smaller photo beside it, where everyone is beaming at the camera, all wearing equally horrendous Christmas jumpers and they look picture perfect. But her eyes keep straying to the larger portrait, drinking in every detail.

In it, Adrien is flailing, falling backwards as Marinette shoves a slice of Bȗche de Noël into his face, a wicked grin on her own. Laughing uproariously is her father, high fiving Marinette’s free hand while Sabine leaps forward to catch Adrien. 

She can almost _hear _the laughter in the photo, and she thinks _how can I take this away from him? how can I stand by and do nothing? _

As they’re leaving-as Sabine presses a box of leftovers into her hands and pulls her in for a hug, Emilie whispers into her ear “thank you.”

And she makes her choice.

* * *

_Adrien you _idiot!”_ Chloé’s shriek is followed by her yanking the duvet off him. Blinking drowsily in the sudden light, he groans as she pulls open the curtains, flooding his room with bright morning light. _

_“Get _up! _We need to do damage control” she throws a pillow at him and storms out to the kitchen where he can hear her start the coffee machine. Rubbing a hand blearily down his face he tries to remember what he did last night but his mind is a blank. The last thing he remembers is getting home after leaving Alya and Nino with the new baby and opening a new bottle of wine..._

_Shit. _

_Scrambling out of bed, he checks his phone and winces when he sees how many notifications he has. _

_“What did I _do _last night?” he asks incredulously, grimacing when Chloé turns to give him a scathing glare. _

_“You went on Instagram live and had a conversation with Marinette. It was pathetic” she sneers, shoving a mug of coffee into his hands. “Now drink up, we need to go over the case with a new angle because of that _stupid stunt_”_

_“What do you mean?”_

_“What do I _mean_?” she echoes “‘what do I mean’ he asks” she mutters under her breath “stupid, freakin’ idiot.” _

_“Adrien” Chloé says slowly “you have _completely_ destroyed your credibility. You have literally handed Gabriel a reason to discredit you. If you go out and accuse him of being Hawkmoth, all he has to do is say you’ve been lost it and are looking for someone to blame. And then our case is fucked” she rolls her eyes “our case with the shittiest evidence possible. God, why couldn’t Akuma victims just _remember_ things? It would be so much more convenient-”_

_“Chloé” Adrien interrupts her, “what do we do?” _

_“Oh that’s easy. I’ve already hired a private investigator” she waves her hand dismissively, but her lips curve up wickedly. _

_“We’re going after the business.”_

* * *

“Oh _Gabriel!”_ Emilie cries out as soon as she gets home, rushing over to his side. She tries not to shudder when after a moment, he brings his arms up to pull her close, but she keeps her face concealed in his suit jacket.

“Emilie, what’s wrong?”

_What’s wrong?_ She almost laughs at the concern she hears in his voice, wondering how much of it is genuine. Anger is coursing through her and she resists the urge to pull back and slap Gabriel in the face.

But everything hinges on her ability to pull off the next few minutes. So she exhales shakily, thinks about what she has learned today; feeling tears fill her eyes as she thinks of all the suffering her husband has inflicted upon people.

She pulls away from Gabriel just enough to look up at him tearfully. “Adrien accused you of such _terrible _things.” Her lip wobbles “he said that you turned people into monsters and terrorised Paris” something flickers in his eyes, but otherwise he doesn’t react. “why would he say something so awful?”

“Do you believe him?”

_Of course I do. _She wants to scoff._ I _know _you_.

Instead she jerks as though she’s been slapped, stepping unsteadily out of his embrace.

“Gabriel how can you _say _that? do you really think so little of me?” Emilie makes her voice hitch, “I told Adrien that you would never do such evil things” she searches his eyes earnestly “I’m right aren’t I?”

He doesn’t say anything, his jaw clenching when she steps forward, placing her hand on his chest. “You didn’t become this…Hawkmoth person did you?”

“Of course not” Gabriel bites out, avoiding her eyes. “He’s just grief stricken. Though I can’t see why” he mutters the last sentence under his breath and Emilie’s jaw drops in outrage. Forcing down her boiling rage, she covers her mouth as though to stifle sobs.

Adrien had told her all about her husband’s wish.

About his desire for a ‘perfect’ family from the past without even trying to create a happy one with his son. Choosing her next words carefully, she watches for his reaction, injecting her voice with just the right amount of desperation.

“I just wish the three of us could be a happy _family”_ she pretends not to notice the way Gabriel’s head snaps in her direction at her imploring voice.

He watches her for a moment, a storm brewing in his eyes. Abruptly, he brings his hand up to cup her face, drawing her forward to kiss her forehead. Emilie tries not to cringe at his touch, but Gabriel seems to take her shut eyes as relief rather than disgust. 

“I’ll go talk to him” he murmurs pulling away. Emilie grabs at his sleeve as he passes, looking panicked

“Gabriel no-”

“Darling,” his voice is firm as he releases himself of her grip “this conversation was long overdue. You should go and rest.”

Emilie scowls at his retreating back. When the door slams shut behind him, her shoulders slump, breath leaving her in a great sigh. Taking out her phone, she sends a single message.

_19.55: He’s on his way_

* * *

He’s reading the letter again when the knock comes.

Adrien’s lost count of how many times he’s read it since it arrived, the words imprinting into his mind, repeating over and over until he wants to scream.

_…Having made little progress towards recovery in her time as a patient in our care, the hospital board has evaluated Miss Dupain-Cheng’s case. Taking into consideration the patient’s current quality of life, it is our medical opinion that her life support should be terminated…_

The idea of a world without Marinette in it doesn’t even bear thinking about. He can’t-_won’t _let that become a reality.

Not if he can help it.

Taking one final glance around the room to make sure everything is in place; Adrien adjusts the pin on his shirt. Briefly grasping Marinette’s ring on its chain around his neck he takes a deep breath before going to the door.

Showtime.

Gabriel doesn’t wait for a greeting, striding past him as soon as he opens the door. Adrien trails behind him silently, glaring as Gabriel looks around the apartment, his lip curled in disgust.

His father had never deigned to visit, and Adrien had never extended an invitation. Watching Gabriel’s critical examination of the place reminds him why. His very presence seems to taint the space.

He moves around the room slowly, picking up a sheaf of papers and flipping through them. Finally, he chuckles derisively, turning to face Adrien.

"Did you really think your little ‘project’ to name me as Hawkmoth would slip by me?” Adrien feels his hackles rise, but he forces himself to stay calm, shoving his hands in his pockets and trying to sound as morose as possible.

“Then you should know that my case isn’t going anywhere. You’re very thorough”

_But not thorough enough. _

“Is that why you told your mother? Out of some foolish attempt at _revenge? _I hope you understand what you’ve done, Adrien. She’s practically hysterical_” _

Adrien shrugs. “I just thought she should know what she’s married to”

“A man who loves her enough to change reality itself?”

“A _monster_”

“Adrien stop being so childish” Gabriel snaps, his eyes flashing. “You didn’t get what you wanted. There’s no reason to have a tantrum about it.”

Adrien laughs incredulously. “_Wow_. A ‘tantrum’?” he makes air quotes “is that what you’ve been telling yourself to make yourself feel better?” shaking his head in disbelief, Adrien looks his father up and down, taking in his impeccable appearance.

Not a single crease is out of place in his customary white suit. He looks the same as he always has, and Adrien is keenly aware of his own dishevelment; the mad glint he must have in his eyes. “Do you even _care_ about the people that you’ve hurt?”

“I did what I had to. Wouldn’t you? For…Mar-”

“_Don’t _say her name” Adrien interrupts angrily, “you don’t have the_ right_” but Gabriel simply rolls his eyes. 

“The ends justify the means, Adrien. You know that. And nobody was ever seriously harmed by my Akumas as I’m sure you are aware.”

_No one was hurt._

“_No one was hurt?”_ Adrien echoes his voice rising with hysteria. Moving quickly, feverishly, he rummages through one of his many files. “What about the suicides?” Finding the statistic reports, he rips them out, throwing them into Gabriel’s face with a snarl.

“What about the people who couldn’t deal with what you turned them into and _took their own lives?_”

Gabriel barely looks ruffled.

“The decisions people made after they were released from my control are none of my concern.”

“And what about what you did to Marinette?” Adrien laughs bitterly. “No remorse there either, right?”

“A life for a life” Gabriel sounds glib. “You already know that” he brushes imaginary lint from his suit “can you honestly say you wouldn’t make the same trade?”

His words stir at something inside him. The part that would do anything, that would willingly blacken his soul just to see Marinette smile again. But then he thinks of the years spent fighting side by side; making sure that goodness would prevail. He thinks of how horrified she would be to see him fall so far.

(How she would forgive him anyway.)

“I wouldn’t do it” Adrien shakes his head “I wouldn’t risk so many lives just to save the life of one. I couldn’t become a villain in her name.”

“And you say you’re in love?” Gabriel scoffs. “Pathetic. If you won’t tear apart the world for her, you don’t deserve to call yourself a man, let alone a _lover_. You’re a coward”

Adrien lunges forward suddenly, grabbing Gabriel by the lapels. “Say that again” he hisses “I _dare _you”

Gabriel doesn’t even blink. He stares Adrien directly in the eyes and he’s taken aback by how cold they are. Sounding almost bored, he repeats himself, enunciating the word clearly.

“_Coward.”_

Adrien punches him.

He doesn’t even think. Just slams his fist into his father’s face, barely noticing the throbbing of his knuckles, watching with satisfaction as Gabriel staggers backwards from the force of his blow, falling against the wall.

Gabriel leans motionless against the wall for a moment before straightening, pinning Adrien with a scathing stare, but the effect is diminished by the blood pouring from his nose. Adrien meets his gaze defiantly, though his voice shakes.

“Get. Out.”

* * *

The next week manages to pass both agonisingly slowly and dizzyingly fast. Adrien refuses to tell her any details about Gabriel’s visit, and Gabriel himself remains in a foul mood even after being told his nose was only bruised.

She wishes Adrien had broken it.

She spends her time avoiding Gabriel, which isn’t hard with him holed up in his office all day and stays with Adrien under the guise of ‘convincing him to come home’.

And still Adrien won’t let her hear the recording. “I want you to be just as surprised” he tells her and well, she can’t fault that logic. She’s a good actress but even she won’t be able to resist smirking in satisfaction when they put the plan in motion.

Instead Adrien distracts her by getting her to help him draft and redraft and completely perfect the statement that will be released. He writes about visiting his father with Marinette, of hearing a commotion and going to investigate, of ‘discovering’ his father’s identity as Hawkmoth, seeing him fight Ladybug and Chat Noir and then make a wish that makes Marinette collapse in his arms and his mother wake up in the same moment.

With Chloé’s PR expertise, he turns himself and Marinette into innocent bystanders caught in the crossfire of Paris’s greatest villain. He talks about being too grief stricken in the early days, of determination to expose his father but meeting with failure after failure after failure.

_Paris, I hope you can forgive me for keeping this to myself. But I can now irrevocably prove that Gabriel Agreste is-_was-_the villain known as Hawkmoth. And his reign of terror is over._

On the final night, the two of them sit on the sofa, barely paying attention to the random movie playing on the tv. Emilie had learned—to her delight—that Adrien was still a snuggler, and it hadn’t taken him very long to resume the habit, often laying his head on her shoulder or in her lap, letting her card her fingers gently through his hair. He shifts slightly in her lap, and she pauses her ministrations, looking down to see him staring up at her, a frown twisting at his lips.

“What is it dear?”

His eyes meet hers and she feels her heart crack a little when she sees the sadness, and _fear_ in them. “What if…” he begins slowly, sitting up to face her, his voice small “what if it’s not enough? What if our proof isn’t enough and he gets away with it again?” he sounds so anxious, like a little child, his eyes wide with worry.

“Oh Adrien” she sighs, pulling him into an embrace. He clutches at her tightly and she curses Gabriel again for doing this to her son.

One thing is for certain. If, by some miracle, Gabriel manages to escape justice…

She will hunt him down herself.

* * *

Paris’ annual charity fashion show is in full swing when the police officers arrive, right on cue. As Marinette’s representative at the show, Adrien is backstage, overseeing Marinette’s collection as her models make their way down the runway.

Officer Raincomprix is the one who taps him on the shoulder, his expression grave. With him are two other officers.

“Roger!” Adrien exclaims, feigning surprise. “Are you looking for Sabrina? She’s out there with Chloé.”

“Uh, no, son” he looks uncomfortable “can we speak in private?”

Adrien leads them to a secluded alcove where they won’t be heard and turns to the officers expectantly. “What seems to be the problem?”

Raincomprix hands Adrien a large folder, speaking gently as Adrien flips through it slowly, his brow furrowed.

“We’re going to have to take your father in for questioning…”

He has to force his smile down as he reads the words _tax evasion, insurance fraud, insider trading…_it seems like everything Gabriel did with his business was illegal. Adrien stays quiet for a few moments after Raincomprix finishes talking. Abruptly, he looks up, snapping the folder closed, his mouth set in a hard line.

“Of course, officer. I’ll go get him. Why don’t you wait with my mother in the meantime?” catching his mothers’ eye across the room, he gestures for her to come over, and makes his way towards Gabriel’s workroom.

Gabriel doesn’t turn around from where he’s watching the show on the TV with the sound muted when Adrien enters, the door clicking shut behind him.

“Have you come to assault me again? You should consider yourself lucky I didn’t press charges”

“Oh _dear_” Adrien says mockingly “are you still having a tantrum?”

Gabriel whirls around, his face twisted into an ugly expression as he hisses “What I did, I did for _this family! _To save your mother, and you are being an _ungrateful brat_!”

Adrien simply rocks back on his heels, his eyes flickering over to the tv behind Gabriel.

“That’s not why I’m here.”

“No really” he assures his father when he scoffs. “I’m not here about any of that.” holding up the file, he points over his shoulder with his other hand. “I just came to tell you that the police are taking you in for corporate fraud.” He smiles genially. “Funny isn’t it? Apparently, you could never do _anything_ legally.”

Gabriel laughs.

“Really. _That’s _what you’re going to take me down with? Adrien please. You could at least pretend to be as intelligent as your education should have made you."

“Oh but I am.”

Noticing the flicker of impatience in his father’s eyes, Adrien nods towards the TV. “See. They might have let you off after a bribe, sure. But somehow I don’t think you’ll be able to do that after you’ve confessed your identity as Hawkmoth.”

“And why would I-” Gabriel stops, staring at the large screens on the runway stage.

His own face stares back at him.

* * *

It takes a moment before people notice the music—loud thumping bass—begin to crackle, slowly fading out to be replaced by two voices.

_Familiar _voices.

Gabriel’s models falter briefly on the runway when they hear his voice, but then continue walking even though nobody is paying attention. The audience’s focus is entirely captured by what they’re seeing, by the words that are booming from every speaker.

_"Did you really think your little ‘project’ to name me as Hawkmoth would slip by me?.....nobody was ever seriously harmed by my Akumas as I’m sure you are aware….I did what I had to do…The decisions people made after they were released from my control are none of my concern.”_

She barely notices the officers beside her paling further by the second as they hear Gabriel boast, remorseless. Emilie herself is engrossed by what she’s seeing, her revulsion for the man growing as nausea fills her gut. How can this man be so dismissive? So completely and utterly _uncaring?_

A loud throat clears beside her and Emilie looks down in surprise. A small Chinese man is standing next to her, smiling pleasantly.

“Mrs Agreste?” he asks

“Not for much longer” she mutters under her breath. Louder, she says “yes?”

“We must go to Adrien. It is time”

* * *

Adrien knows the moment his father realises he’s done for. It’s hardly noticeable, but his shoulders slump infinitesimally.

Still, he won’t go down without a fight and he lunges across the room at him, eyes blazing. Adrien neatly sidesteps him, getting slightly cuffed in the arm.

“How _dare you”_ he seethes “how _dare _you break this family apart again!”

Adrien fixes him with an unimpressed stare. “You underestimated me, father” he says quietly “you always have. And we haven’t been a family for a very long time.”

Gabriel opens his mouth to say something else, but a knock on the door interrupts him. “Well!” Adrien exclaims cheerfully. “Looks like the police are here for you!”

Except its not just the police.

Standing in front of the entourage with his mother is Master Fu. Emilie is wringing her hands anxiously as he steps forward, a box in his hands. He nods at Adrien’s questioning glance.

Swallowing past the sudden lump in his throat, Adrien accepts the box, turning it over and over in his hands.

How easy would it be? All he has to do is open it, release Plagg, and do the deed.

“I could cataclysm you right now’ he says softly without turning around. “But that would be too kind. You deserve to see everything you hold dear ripped away from you, knowing you can’t do anything to stop it.”

Stepping out of the room, he manages to walk down the corridor briskly, waiting to turn the corner before breaking into a sprint.

He doesn’t look back.

* * *

It is complete and utter pandemonium. The fashion show is over.

One of France’s biggest fashion designers being arrested on charges of domestic terrorism will do that, Emilie supposes. She stands on the side lines, watching people mingle and gossip about the night’s events, their faces alight with excitement. She has no doubt that this night will go down in history, but suddenly she is simply too tired.

She spots Chloé making her way through the crowd towards her, shoving past people, waving her phone up in the air excitedly.

“We’re trending number one on Twitter!” she crows as soon as she comes to a stop, just barely managing to stop her champagne from sloshing out of the glass in her other hand. “That statement did the trick. _Everyone _is on Adrien’s side. They’re all talking about how _traumatising_ it must have been to find out his dad was Hawkmoth” she rolls her eyes “which, _duh!”_

“Anyway we’ve given them an hour already.” Downing her drink in one gulp, Chloé grabs at Emilie, hooking their arms together and dragging her through the crowd.

“C’mon let’s go!”

* * *

Magic swirls through the room, filling the space with soft pink light that circles around Marinette’s motionless form on the bed. Adrien stands with Tom and Sabine in the corner, watching, wide eyed as Tiki and Master Fu work the cure.

Plagg is perched on his shoulder, watching the proceedings in uncharacteristic silence. Adrien hadn’t realised how much he’d missed his kwami until his small weight is back on his shoulder, leaning against his neck reassuringly.

“This’ll work, kid” he whispers in his ear “I’ve seen it before.”

The low hum of magic suddenly rises to a loud buzzing, the glow around Marinette vibrating faster and faster, until it’s the only sound in the room, making the windows shake in their frames. And just as suddenly as it started, it stops.

They all watch with bated breath as the glow seems to seep _into_ Marinette’s body, as Tiki flies down to rest on her pillow dizzily, exhausted. As with a gasp and a lurch, Marinette jerks awake, her large blue eyes meeting theirs across the room.

For a moment no one moves.

And then- “Adrien…?” her voice is raspy from disuse, but it's _her_, it’s _Marinette_, and Adrien feels his legs go weak. “Maman? Papa?”

All three of them surge forward as one, her name on their lips as they crowd around her, grasping her hand, kissing her forehead, her lips, whatever they can touch and laughing through tears when Marinette simply stares at them in bewilderment.

None of them notice Master Fu quietly let himself out.

* * *

The doctors are only just leaving the room when Emilie and Chloé arrive. She catches the tail end of their conversation as they pass by, hearing them mutter about improbabilities and ‘miracle’ cures. The word makes her smile. Hadn’t they said the same about her?

But this time, there is only happiness.

They can already hear laughter through the door, and it takes Emilie a second to realise the loud guffaws are from Tom. He hadn’t had much cause for laughter when they’d last met after all. Just as Chloé is about to push the door open, she pauses, looking questioningly over her shoulder at Emilie, frozen behind her.

“Aren’t you going to come in?”

“I-” Emilie hesitates “I wouldn’t want to intrude. You all know her, but…I’m a stranger.” She steps backwards slowly “maybe I should leave.”

Chloé is looking at her in disbelief.

Sighing heavily, she takes hold of her hand, muttering “utterly ridiculous!” under her breath and _yanks_ Emilie into the room with her, promptly letting go as soon as they enter.

“Well, Dupain-Cheng” Chloé sniffs haughtily. “You took your time.”

“Nice to see you too, Chloé” Marinette’s response is dry and Chloé squeals, launching herself at her on the bed. Marinette lets out an _oof_ as Chloé hugs her tightly, her arms coming up slowly to embrace her. Chloé pulls back after a moment, looking Marinette in the eyes seriously.

“_Don’t _do that again. Do you know how _annoying _your fiancé is when you’re not around?” the two of them glance over at Adrien sat beside the bed, giggling at his put-out expression.

“And-” Chloé continues “I had to listen to Alya _give birth_” she shudders “while the entire time she was crying about wanting you there and almost breaking my hand. Now _that’s _the real tragedy…”

This isn’t her place; Emilie thinks as she watches the conversation. She shouldn’t be here. Not now, not during these precious moments. Turning quietly to leave, she pushes at the door when-

“Wait!” Marinette’s voice stops her. Emilie turns back around to see the girl watching her, head tilted slightly. “You’re Adrien’s maman, aren’t you?”

Everyone is looking at her now, their faces warm and happy. Before she can respond, Adrien is standing, holding out a hand to her. She takes it and looks up at him.

Closing his hand around hers, Adrien leads her forward, pulling a chair up beside the bed for her.

“Mother” he says, his eyes flicking between her and Marinette. He’s trying to keep a straight face, but his eyes are alight with happiness and he can’t stop himself from breaking out in a grin, bright and joyous. She has never seen him so happy and it takes her breath away.

“There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! and that's it! I don't know if it was very clear, but Gabriel knew of Adrien's attempts to reveal him as Hawkmoth before the visit, hence why Adrien didn't bother to hide his papers. The whole encounter was rigged so they could bug the place and get Gabriel to gloat about his victory, and he doesn't even consider being recorded because as Adrien says, he underestimated him, thinking he's being childish.  
Who else wanted to punch Gabriel like Adrien did? because I know I wrote it but my god that guy is smarmy. I couldn't really get in a proper confrontation between Emilie and Gabriel because it didn't fit into my outline and this chapter was already over 4k at that point but rest assured, she yeeted those divorce papers at him so fast he still has whiplash. 
> 
> Fun Fact: the last line of this fic was the first thing I wrote down when I conceptualised the story, so it was always going to end with that. 
> 
> Let me know what you thought! :)

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think!


End file.
